Blood Tears
by Naz
Summary: So much for a short story! Basically concerning Maedhros; please r&r. Not an uplifting story... When reviewing, please put whether or not I should continue the story. Thanks
1. Default Chapter

Blood Tears  
  
Hanging over Thangorodrim, I regret the dreadful Oath- the Oath my father took. The Oath that has caused all this misery.  
  
Melkor, or Morgoth as my father had named him, had stolen the Silmarils that my father, Fëanor had made. In them, he locked the light of the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telpirion, before Morgoth destroyed them. My father, me, and my six other brothers took an Oath- we swore in the name of Iluvatar that we would not rest until we got the three Silmarils back, and we would make war with anyone who withheld them.  
  
I shut my eyes tightly. We were foolish. To make such an Oath! Surely we will be punished by a painful death!  
  
We had all rode on to Angband. Morgoth's orcs and Balrogs outnumbered us. I saw the Lord of the Balrogs kill my father. We were taking him away, away from the battle- then he bade us set him down, in sight of Thangorodrim. He cursed Morgoth thrice, then his body turned to ashes.  
  
Morgoth captured me through trickery. And now here I am, hanging by my wrists from the heights of Thangorodrim. One wrist, my right one, is bound to mountain in an iron manacle. So I am hanging by one wrist.  
  
Welcome to my realm  
  
We are both condemned to live  
  
It's a dark fate  
  
(I can hear your calls  
  
I can hear your calls)  
  
THE ETERNAL LIFE  
  
I see it still burns  
  
Each night I cry in pain  
  
Alive  
  
Though the end appears my friend  
  
Suddenly, I hear singing. I answer. It is my friend, Fingon! He wept when he saw me, and a told him to shoot me with an arrow. He cried aloud to Manwe, and just as the arrow was set to fly, the Lord of the Eagles appeared.  
  
Fingon got on him, and tried to free my wrist from the manacle. It would not work. I told him to slay me; he did not listen.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
chorus:  
  
And blood tears I cry  
  
You've searched and you've found  
  
Cut off your old friends hand  
  
Finally, Fingon severed my hand from my wrist and flying upon the Lord of the Eagles, we went back to Valinor, where I was healed.. But only in body.  
  
My mind's  
  
In frozen dreams  
  
The rotten flesh  
  
Of bitter lies  
  
Welcome to where time stands still  
  
No one leaves and no one ever will  
  
Can't hold it  
  
It burns  
  
Each night I cry in pain  
  
chorus:  
  
And blood tears I cry  
  
Endless grief remained inside  
  
And blood tears I cry  
  
Endless grief remained inside  
  
It seems so clearly  
  
Bent the bow  
  
Cause life in me is gone  
  
And a cruel wind's blowing cold  
  
And a cruel wind's blowing cold  
  
In blame  
  
And life it shall wane  
  
Each night I cry in pain  
  
Years later, me and my brother Maglor, who was next eldest, and had inherited my mother's gentle ways, finally won back the Silmarils. We had gone through so many wars, had committed so many treacherous things, that the holy Jewels would not let us hold them without pain. Searing, agonizing pain.  
  
In anguish, as much horrible anguish as I felt hanging from Thangorodrim years ago, if not even worse, I clutch the Silmaril and throw my self into a fissure in the Earth.  
  
chorus:  
  
And blood tears I cry  
  
Endless grief remained inside  
  
Cut off your old friends hand  
  
-=-=-=-=-  
  
My older brother, Maedros, has cast himself into a fissure in the Earth, with one of the Silmarils. I cast mine into the depths of the Sea.  
  
  
  
Curse the Oath, curse Morgoth, yes, even curse the Silmarils! I wish to cry aloud, but no words will come to my lips. I wander the shore.  
  
  
  
Alone.  
  
-=-=-=-=-=  
  
What of the third Silmaril? Ah, yes. I am Earendil, the Mariner. I have taken the third Silmaril, and now I sail the heavens with it bound forever to my brow.  
  
Look up! You shall see me. The "Morning Star", the "Evening Star" is what I am probably called. Forever shall I sail the heavens, forever shall I keep this Silmaril.  
  
  
  
The End  
  
A/N: The song in this story is "Blood Tears" by Blind Guardian. The first speaker is Feanor's eldest son, Maedros, the second speaker is his second eldest, Maglor, and third and final one is, of course, Earendil. Please review! Very depressing story, I know.. 


	2. Reflection

(A/N: I KNOW, I got some stuff wrong in chapter 1! But, anyway, this chapter is elaborating what Maedhros might have been thinking about as he hung from Thangorodrim. It may not be accurate, but then it could AU! Heck, why not?)  
  
It's a long drop. But the manacle around my right wrist won't let me fall.  
  
Instead I hang here from Thangorodrim. Morgoth doesn't give me any food or drink. It's hard to tighten my belt. My pants might fall off during the night. Ha. Not quite funny.  
  
Usually I don't remember my dreams. During the day as the hours drag by, I think back to those happy days I spent in Aman as a child. Though I can never go back...  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"Maedhros!" Nerdanel called out. Her child had run off somewhere. "Where can he be?" she mused to herself.  
  
Her second son, Maglor, sat nearby. He was but a baby, and so very curious. Right now he was looking for something to put in his mouth. "Bu!" Maglor said, grabbing a rock. He stuck it in his mouth.  
  
Nerdanel grabbed it. "No, oh no, child, NO," she said in a rush. "Goodness gracious, you will grow to be like your father." She smiled to herself. Her husband, Feanor, with his fiery ways and always interested in creating jewels or something of that nature. You'd think he was Aule's twin, the way they both worked away in their smiths. Then she noticed Maglor was looking a little sad, so she sat down on the green grass of Aman to play with her small son.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Meanwhile, Maedhros had gone off to Feanor's smith. "Father?" he called.  
  
"Yes?" Feanor asked, not looking up from whatever he was making.  
  
Maedhros hesitated. Maybe he shouldn't bother his father. He knew perfectly well about Feanor's temper- and all too well. Was it not he who bore the brunt of the attack when he and his friends had wrecked something over in Feanor's smith?  
  
"Yes?" Feanor reiterated, this time a bit more sharply.  
  
"Well, Father..." Meadhros started. "You promised Mother you wouldn't go into the smith today. You said you'd have some 'quality time' with your family."  
  
Feanor looked up from his works. "Oh, dear," he said. Then he dashed out. Maedhros followed. -_-_-_-_-  
  
"Nerdanel!" Feanor smiled, walking up to his wife. "I was a little late in getting ready for today."  
  
Nerdanel smiled. "Ah-hm. You didn't seem to spend any time in getting ready to visit your smithy. Are your tools and works your true family?" Then she smiled and gave him a little kiss, so as not to make him too angry. Maglor groped for the rock again. Nerdanel swooped down and snatched it away- again.  
  
But then Feanor took it. "Hm," he said. "This is of good quality. You have a good eye for such things, Maglor." He smiled.  
  
"Oh, don't encourage him!" Nerdanel said, a little exasperated. "I am living in a family of smiths!" She threw up her hands.  
  
"Ah, yes," her husband said. "But who made your gilded chair? And your fine dishes?"  
  
"They do not wash themselves," Nerdanel said (referring to the dishes). Feanor immediately said: "Well... Besides that, they are of good quality! Besides, how would one make dishes that wash themselves?"  
  
Nerdanel smiled. "The Valar, I am sure."  
  
Her husband laughed. "You mean to tell me you think Varda has dishes that magically get up and clean themselves?"  
  
"Maybe," Nerdanel said. Feanor rolled his eyes. Nerdanel then said, "Oh, and you had promised Maedhros you would teach him... What was it again?"  
  
Feanor frowned. "'Teach'? Why, I was going to visit Orome and he had wanted to come. But I thought my * darling * wife wanted me by her."  
  
His wife blushed. "Oh, stop," she said. "Go-Go visit Orome! Go! Be off with you!"  
  
Feanor chuckled. "You see, son?" he said to Maedhros. "We have been banished!"  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
"You missed."  
  
Maedhros sighed. "I'm sorry, Orome, I'm not quite a good shot." He frowned at the target-a rock. Orome was teaching him how to sneak up on fell beasts and then attack.  
  
Orome didn't point out it was a non-living object that couldn't move. But earlier Feanor had looked at the rock saying what good quality it was and so forth, so maybe Maedhros had intentionally missed the rock. "That's all right," the Vala said. "I think we need a break anyway." He sat down on the green grass. "Maedhros," he said. "Hm?" the young Elf replied.  
  
"Well," Orome continued. "I don't mean to be nosy, but do you not have any friends of your own?"  
  
Maedhros cocked his head. "Well, there is Niegla... But he usually gets into trouble." He lay down on the grass, breathing in the sweet air of Aman. "But I have a few others."  
  
"So why do you hang around old Valar like me?" Orome chuckled.  
  
"You? Old? I mean-" Maedhros stopped. Orome burst out laughing, the sound rining through Valinor.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
(A/N: Back to the present)  
  
I close my eyes... Trying to remember what Orome's laugh sounded like, so long ago. At the same time I try to tighten my belt. Yes, yes, I know, here I go one more about -what else- my belt.  
  
Banished. My father said it jokingly that day when Mother sent us away, but now me and my kin are truly banished... And my father is dead.  
  
What I would give to go back to that day when all went wrong! To try and stay my father's fire. But I, too, had readily taken the Oath. It was I who yelled to my other brothers to come take it.  
  
What of Mother? Was she dead? Grieving? Oh, no, then she would die! A cry escapes me. Have I killed my own mother?  
  
Hard footsteps approach. I swallow my tears and turn my head- ah, my neck hurts- to face the visitor. I narrow my eyes and glare at him.  
  
Morgoth.  
  
"How is it there?" he asks mockingly.  
  
"Very nice, why don't you step over here to have a chat? Short lived of course, considering the fact you would fall and die," I retorted.  
  
Morgoth smirked. "Oh, I'd love to, but more important deeds are calling. I was just wondering if you were still alive, or dead."  
  
I spat. "Hah! It'll take more than hanging from this HILL to kill me."  
  
Morgoth poked me with a long staff. "Of course," he said. "Of course. What other ways? I could kill you now, or I could torture you slowly, or kill one who is most beloved to you."  
  
Torture? This was torture enough. But of course, you don't tell your enemy that. You must hide your weaknesses.  
  
"But," Morgoth said, "I've decided to keep you hanging." And laughing, he strode away.  
  
End  
  
Author's Note: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! Badbadbad ending!! But, PLEEEEZE R&R! arigatou 


	3. 3

(A/N: I'm gonna take another shot at this, since you peoples thought ch. 2 was OK. So...tell me when I should cut out the li'l "reflections"!! Oh, also 'cause I'm VERY out of it: Morchaint, what does "canon" mean? Yours confuzzledly, BJ ( )  
  
  
  
"Maedhros!"  
  
"What?" Maedhros asked, getting up from his seat and walking to the door of his house. "Fingon! I'll be right there!"  
  
The young elf ran out to greet his friend, who was grinning. "Happy birthday!" Fingon smiled, handing a box out to Maedhros, who opened it. He gasped. Inside was a beautiful stone. Its color was a deep, rich sea green, and it shone and sparkled brilliantly in the light of the Trees. "Fingon," he breathed. "Thank you! It is beautiful!"  
  
"You're welcome," Fingon said, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulder. "So what's on today's agenda?"  
  
Maedhros screwed up his face as he thought. "Umm," he hummed, "Mother wanted me to take care of Maglor today."  
  
The lighter haired (Fingon) of the two laughed. "Well, make sure he doesn't try eating your birthday present!" Maedhros laughed, too.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Maglor was learning how to speak a bit. When Fingon said hello, he looked up at him with large black eyes and lipsed, "Hi."  
  
They were sitting around, bored, until Fingon said, "I know! Let's sing!"  
  
"Sing?" Maedhros asked as if it had just suggested that they jump off of a cliff. "I cannot even carry a tune."  
  
His friend said, "Fine. I'LL sing." He scratched out a few notes, then stopped. "Suppose not," he said, blushing crimson.  
  
Maglor said, "Song." Maedhros patted his head. "'Top!" his little brother whined. "Song!"  
  
"You're too little," Maedhros sighed. "You can't sing."  
  
"Can too!" Maglor said. He stood up best he could and belted out a song, smoother and prettier that either of the elder Noldor could.  
  
Fingon turned to Maedhros. His eyes were wide. "'Can't sing'?" he said. "CAN'T??" Then he fell back, laughing. "You underestimate your little brother!"  
  
The eldest of the sons of Feanor sat with his mouth open. Fingon stopped laughing to wave a hand over his friend's eyes. "Maeeeedhroos," he sang. "Are you in there?"  
  
"My little brother can sing better than I..." He gasped, wide-eyed.  
  
Fingon burst into hyper laughter once more.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
(A/N: yes, still on Thangorodrim... Poor Maedhros * sniff *)  
  
How long ago was that? Ages ago? How long ago was I captured? Ages upon ages? No. only... Four days?  
  
Four? FOUR? My brain does not track time anymore. The days crawl by and feel like ages. And I'm starving. Not just for food, but to be back among my kindred.  
  
Fingon, I'm sorry. I DID remember you at the burning of the boats I swear I did! But my father was in a fey mood, it seems. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I could think it a thousand times, say it to your face, and it probably wouldn't be enough.  
  
But we were friends for so long...  
  
Despite myself, I begin sobbing. It is not like me, to break down like this. Usually I am strong. But not now. If Morgoth knew I had broken down, he'd count it as a victory.  
  
Suck in, Maedhros, I scold myself. No time to be getting weak-ish.  
  
So I dwell in the past instead...  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"No, no, Fingon, you stand...here." Maedhros said, directing his friend to stand behind a chair. "Now crouch down. We'll see if Maglor can find you." Then he went out of the room to get his little brother.  
  
Basically, they were playing hide n' seek, only it was just Fingon hiding, and only Maglor seeking.  
  
"Go find Fingon!" Maedhros told his baby brother. "Where's Fingon?"  
  
The baby crawled around and stopped at a plant. He tugged its long leaf. "'Ere!" he said. His older brother shook his head. "No," said he. "That's NOT Fingon, last I checked." Fingon emitted a muffled laugh. "A-HEM," Maedhros said, glaring at the chair Fingon hid behind.  
  
"Oogy," Maglor gooed, crawling to the chair. Some instinct made Fingon jump up and scuttle away. "Uh-uh!" Maedhros said. "You can't do that!" But pretty soon the two older Noldor forsook the game of hide n' seek and now Maedhros was chasing Fingon around the house.  
  
You know the story: It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt-Or knocks over an innocent lamp and chair.  
  
Fingon was still running but now breathing hard. In front of him was a chair, a side table, and a small lamp (the candle wasn't lit). Maedhros was coming up fast behind him, and Fingon reckoned it would take some time to go around the chair, either that or it would slow him down. So he attempted to jump over the chair.  
  
Key word: ATTEMPTED.  
  
He got over the chair-but he turned his head in the wrong way, fell hard, his leg came around to knock over the lamp, and the chair turned over and landed on top of him. Maedhros stopped in his tracks, stunned. Then he ran to the mess.  
  
"Fingon, get out," he giggled.  
  
"I can't," Fingon's muffled voice came from under the chair. "This chair's too heavy."  
  
Maedhros rolled his eyes and tried to lift the chair. "Can't... lift..." He groaned. "Are you alright in there?"  
  
"No," Fingon said. "I think I broke my leg. The chair hit it hard and it hurts a lot."  
  
The other, slightly older Noldor sighed. "How can I be sure you aren't exaggerating? You do that a lot, Fingon."  
  
His friend replied, "Look, I'm NOT exaggerating. My leg REALLY hurts and it's stuffy in here." He sounded like he might begin crying. "It's really hard to breathe."  
  
"All right, hold on," Maedhros said. He bent over and tried to lift the chair again. "You have to push!" he groaned in pain to Fingon. "My back, my back..."  
  
Finally, there was a big enough space for Fingon to crawl out. "Go!" Maedhros urged. "Hurry!" Fingon began to crawl, forgetting his leg. Suddenly, he dropped to the ground in agony. "What's wrong?" Maedhros asked worridly.  
  
"My leg," Fingon whimpered. "It IS broken."  
  
"Use your arms," his friend told him.  
  
Maglor crawled over to Fingon and looked at him with big, dark eyes. "Fingon hurt?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.  
  
"I wish you were older, Maglor," Maedhros said. He still couldn't put the chair down because Fingon was still in the way. "Fingon, go! You can make it! Go!" he cried aloud as his fingers began to lose their grip.  
  
"I can't-" Fingon started. Then Maedhros lost his grip and cried out.  
  
The chair was on Fingon's waist. From his head to his waist, all was out of the chair, but now it was hurting his waist. "It hurts," he said shakily. Maedhros sucked his fingers, then took them out of his mouth. "All right," said he, "I'm trying again." Fingon whimpered, "Just give up. I'm all right."  
  
But Maedhros was not one to give up. Once again he gripped the chair, and putting forth all he had, he lifted it. Then, quickly, he dove under so that his back held up the chair. Now he was in Fingon's position, only he was propped up on his arms and legs. Now there was a more than large enough way for Fingon to crawl out of. He began trying to get out.  
  
Thankfully, Feanor walked in right then. "What are you doing?" he asked.  
  
"Help!" Maedhros called, commanding. Feanor pulled Fingon out, but set him standing. Fingon crumpled to the floor and Maedhros scurried out away from the chair. It fell back with a thump.  
  
Feanor then said, "I repeat, what are you doing?" Then they told him all that had happened, and the Fingon's leg was broken. "I'll take you to a doctor," Feanor sighed, obviously not too keen on the fact he had to run more errands.  
  
Maedhros supported his friend as they walked, and Feanor of course held Maglor. ("Your mother would have a fit if I left the baby behind," he told Maedhros.) "Maedhros?" the lighter haired elf said meekly.  
  
"Hm?" his friend said.  
  
"Thank you for saving me." Fingon grinned despite his leg. "I owe you one."  
  
Maedhros laughed. "You'll probably NEVER have to owe me back," he grinned.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"The lamp."  
  
They were at the doctor's and Fingon had just remembered that the lamp had fallen. "It probably broke," he said.  
  
"Oh, no," Maedhros groaned. "But, shhh, don't tell my father."  
  
Feanor ducked out of the doctor's office and gestured for the two boys to enter. Fingon got his leg done up, and, of course, had to be brought back to his house supported by Maedhros. Turgon saw him and teased, "You're going to be in tro-oouble,"  
  
So Fingon had to explain everything to his father, and Feanor fairly danced around, he was so bouncy while waiting. "Well," Maedhros said. "I have to go. Goodbye, Fingon."  
  
"Goodbye," Fingon said. "Happy Birthday!"  
  
Maedhros grinned, certain that his friend would never have to pay him back. Ever.  
  
End  
  
(A/N: pleeze, r/r. :P 


End file.
